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“I can tell you I have a blazing headache.” Maldynado pressed a palm to his skull.

Sicarius waited for Yara to accuse him of whining, but she was standing next to him, almost leaning against his shoulder, and gave him a concerned look. The battle must have been more harrowing than anyone had let on. Sicarius was relieved Amaranthe and the others had found a way to handle the makarovi without him; he’d been three stories above the furnace room and had rushed back as soon as he heard the roars of the beast, but traveling through the duct systems was tediously slow. He’d cracked his elbows and his head more than once in his haste to return to help. He resolved not to let Amaranthe send him away from her again, not while makarovi remained alive.

“Though I’m terribly grateful that you three came back to kill our new furry doorstop,” Maldynado added.

“Yup,” Akstyr said, “it would have chewed donkey testicles if the makarovi had woken up first.”

“That, and I’d hate to have been nominated as the one to finish it off.” Maldynado grinned. “Books did a decent butchering job there, didn’t he? All we need now are some steaks so Basilard can prove to us that makarovi actually does make a decent meal.”

“I’d rather eat one of Sicarius’s greasy bars,” Akstyr said.

Books had opened the furnace door and snaked the hose as close to the flames as he dared. “I’m prepared.”

“Go ahead and start.” Amaranthe stepped away from the furnace. “It’ll take a while to wind through all those ducts and affect people.”

“What’s the plan for dealing with those people once they’re out?” Sespian asked. “If we’re only going to have fifteen minutes, and there are thousands of men…”

Amaranthe nodded. “A difficulty. I propose that we split into three teams. Maldynado, Yara, and Akstyr on one team, and Sespian and Basilard on another. Books will remain here, ensuring that nobody disturbs the dispensary device while we’re up there.” The last thing they wanted was for somebody to figure out what was going on and turn it on while her team was roaming the halls. “You’ll race through the floors as quickly as possible, picking out high-ranking officers and carting them down to the dungeon and locking them in cells. Don’t bother with the staff. Sespian, before you and Basilard drag anyone out, I want you to run up to your rooms and find a dress uniform. Put it on with all the imperial accoutrements you have time to grab. When people start waking up and see you here while Ravido and their superiors are missing, I’m hoping they’ll be eager to switch sides, or at least won’t want to pick a fight.”

“You’re going for Ravido?” Sespian asked.

“Sicarius and I will fetch him for questioning. I want to know if we’ve guessed right about these makarovi or not. It’s possible the Forge people aren’t their target. I’ve been wondering why half of the pack stayed on the premises while half ran off into the Emperor’s Preserve.”

“Into the city,” Sicarius said. “I heard screams from Mokath Ridge, and the tracks we saw headed in that direction too.”

“Were those the well-mannered makarovi who did as their collars commanded, or were those the rogues?”

“Unknown,” Sicarius said, though he suspected her question had been rhetorical.

“We’ll focus on securing the building first,” Amaranthe said. “Anyone have questions? Disagreements?”

“What about the practitioner?” Akstyr lowered his shovel and swiped sweat from his brow. “The one who set the wards might also be the one who altered the collars so the makarovi have a new target.”

“I’m hoping she took the night off,” Amaranthe said. “But if anyone sees her, grab her. We’ll have to set a guard on her. Even then, I don’t know-Akstyr how does one imprison a practitioner and keep him or her from using mental powers to escape?”

“There are some Made devices that can subdue prisoners.” Akstyr glanced at the wound at Sicarius’s temple. “Otherwise, you have to keep them as distracted as possible.”

“The Nurians use a form of water torture,” Sicarius said. “Lay the practitioner on his back and pour water over his face, so that he has to concentrate on not choking, thus not letting him focus his thoughts on anything else.”

“How… lovely,” Amaranthe said.

“Killing her would also be an option, for whoever finds her while she’s asleep.” If she was asleep, Sicarius thought. If the practitioner figured out what was happening to her comrades before she succumbed herself, she might be able to fashion a way to protect herself from the tainted air.

“Uh.” Amaranthe glanced at the dead makarovi, but seemed disinclined to order the same fate for a human being. “If anyone sees her, bring her back here. We’ll handle her the best we can. She might be worth questioning, especially if Ravido slips away somehow.”

Sicarius had spotted Ravido alone in Raumesys’s old office, drinking brandy as he stared glumly out the window-he had no intention of letting the general slip anywhere. He expected the man, too cowardly to run out and fight the makarovi or help anyone, to still be in the room when he and Amaranthe returned. He didn’t argue with her order though.

“The gas is flowing,” Books announced.

“Are the ducts the only way for us to get from the basement to the main floors without going outside?” Amaranthe asked Sicarius.

“No. There’s a coal elevator and servants’ access ladders in the room next to this one.”

Sicarius climbed over the slain makarovi and into the hallway. Amaranthe and the others followed him as he entered a large storage room with chutes in the ceiling. Full coal bins lined the walls. He led them to a ladder at the back of the room and up to a trapdoor where he stopped to listen. A few thumps reverberated through the floor. They didn’t sound like footsteps. More like people falling to the ground.

At the base of the ladder, Amaranthe lifted her eyebrows.

“The servants quarters and lounge are up here,” Sicarius said. “It’s a busy area.”

“Is it still a busy area?”

He held up a finger. He caught a bleary, “Wha’s going on?” then another thump.

Several seconds passed without a sound. Sicarius lifted the trapdoor a few inches and eyed a tile floor covered with shabby area rugs and unconscious people.

“We should wait a couple more minutes,” Sicarius said, “for the gas to reach the top floor, then Books can turn off the flow.”

Basilard was standing nearest to the door. He nodded and left to deliver the message, then returned a few minutes later. It should be safe.

Sicarius checked the room above again, then climbed out, inhaling to see if he could detect the odor of the gas, or anything else that would suggest danger. The kitchens weren’t far off, and the odors of hams and cloves were the most noticeable, though he caught the lingering scent of lilac too. One wouldn’t think of a poison or anything nefarious if one caught a whiff, though he did sense a hint of something alien underneath it, a chemical scent that must come from the venom used to create the compound.

He would have liked to remain by the trapdoor until he was certain the scent had faded and wouldn’t affect him, but they didn’t have much time. Amaranthe had already climbed up the ladder beneath him and waited, a question on her face.

“No one is awake,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe waved to the others. “Let’s go.” She spoke in a whisper, though he doubted it mattered. These people wouldn’t be roused by noise, not until the gas wore off.

The men ascended the ladder, and the teams departed without a word. With Amaranthe behind him, Sicarius jogged down the narrow servants’ corridors and to ladders and utility lifts that led to higher levels. They climbed to the third floor, at which point they had to head into the main hallway. Fewer bodies lay crumpled on the polished floor tiles than he expected, but when he glanced through the open door to the library, he spotted dozens of people on the carpet near the windows. That made sense. People had been gathered to watch the chaos outside and ensure the makarovi weren’t finding entrance.